Conversations
by kcat5
Summary: Conversations between the members of Team Mustang. Look for angst, suspense, humor, and more. This is my first fanfic so constructive criticism is welcome!
1. Chapter 1

" _East City Command Center. How may I direct your call?"_

"Co-Colonel...Mustang."

" _Identification code?"_

"773564"

" _Mustang. Speak."_

"H-hello to...you too, b-boss."

" _Havoc?!"_

"Yeah. I need a lift."

" _You need-do you realize you've been MIA for four days?"_

"Heh. Yeah. I got jumped."

" _What? How did-"_

"Boss, I dunno how far...how long I got till they f-find me."

" _I'm coming. Where are you?"_

"Phone booth in..I think...south side?"

" _Fuery's on it. What's your status?"_

"..."

" _Lieutenant!"_

"S-sorry, s-sir."

" _Stay with me, Havoc. Are you injured?"_

"Yeah, they…not really sure 'bout all of it, but..arm's broken and there's blood…"

" _Can you stop the bleeding?"_

"Didn't wanna take th' time."

" _Havoc, listen to me. We're coming, but you need to get out of that phone booth. Find a spot to hide, and if you can't, keep moving. We'll find you, but you need to move."_

"I...I don't know if…"

" _That's an order, Lieutenant."_

"Yessir."

" _Tell me what you're going to do."_

"Get out..keep moving."

" _Go."_

* * *

"Havoc?"

"Sir, over here."

"Shit, Jean…"

"Breda, stay back. Havoc, can you hear me?"

"B-boss."

"That's right. I need you to put the gun down, Havoc. Can you do that?"

"I-he…"

"He's dead. It's over now. Just put the gun down. Good, that's good."

"S-sorry, b-boss. Messed up, let 'em jump me…"

"You didn't do anything wrong. Just relax. Let us handle it now."

"But…"

"Lieutenant. Stand down."

"Yessir...Sir? Thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

Roy Mustang groaned as Hawkeye landed the latest stack of paperwork on his desk.

"One of these days I'm just going to take the bullet," he muttered.

Usually this remark would get him a pointed glance and a finger suggestively tapping a pistol. Today, however, the heat from her glare put his pyrotechnics to shame.

"Lieutenant?" he asked, baffled. He hadn't been slacking off _that_ badly.

"Was it you, sir?" She leaned forward, studying him like a hawk eyes a mouse.

Roy gulped. Frantically he thought back over his latest transgressions.

"No?" he tried.

Hawkeye appeared to consider. Then, with an abrupt, "Excuse me, sir," she marched to his desk and began digging through all the drawers. Not finding what she was looking for, she turned to the wastebasket, and then Roy's coat.

With careful movements, Roy backed up until he hit the wall. There were at least five overdue reports and requisitions hidden in his desk. Hawkeye hadn't even reacted. His most trusted subordinate, who swore to protect his back and keep him on his path, had gone insane. He would never make Furer now. Of course, that wouldn't matter if Hawkeye shot him.

He was 5 seconds from diving for the door and safety when Hawkeye stopped, saluted, and calmly returned to her desk.

Roy, staring after her, watched as every person in the outer office, including the Elric brothers, froze solid at her reappearance.

Roy needed more information. "Havoc!" he hollered.

The 2nd lieutenant appeared, looking pale. Roy gestured for him to shut the door and raised an eyebrow in silent question.

Havoc glanced fearfully over his shoulder, then whispered, "Lieutenant Hawkeye brought some chocolate-covered cherries in today, sir. Apparently they're her favorite. Only," he gulped, "they vanished."

Roy's eyes traveled from the terrified Havoc, to his pilfered desk, to the closed door. He considered.

"Wait, boss, where are you going?"

"The new recruits in Central have combat training today. I'm sure they could benefit from my experience."

"Did you say Central?"

Major Armstrong was thrilled by the seven new volunteers for the exercise, although he was confused by one thing.

"Strange, they usually only look that terrified after the recruits start shooting…"


	3. Chapter 3

Every once in awhile, Alphonse will sneak away from his brother.

Of course, _sneak_ is relative when one's body is a suit of armour. He's had to get creative.

Brother's at Eastern Headquarters, completing some sort of mandatory training. Thanks to the combined efforts of Alphonse, the Colonel, and Lieutenant Hawkeye's pistol, Ed had gotten there only an hour late.

"I'll meet you at the library when I'm done, Al, okay?" Ed told him, briefly erasing his scowl to give a quick, reassuring smile.

"Sure!" Al had responded cheerfully. "I'll see you soon!"

Al winces a little, remembering. It's not technically lying. Ed hadn't really asked where he would be, just assumed that he'd be researching. Finding more leads, moving forward like they always did.

Instead he's out walking the streets of East City. Moving aimlessly from one block to another, he drifts through the crowd of people shopping, eating, laughing and arguing. He does his best to ignore the weird looks he gets. And the ache that follows him like a black cloud.

He stops to help a harried mother of four carry her grocery bags, leaving her free to corral the kids as they cross a busy street.

"Thank you so much," she tells him, smiling in relief. "They're a handful sometimes. I don't know why mothers don't get extra arms. I could sure use them."

He laughs, and it feels good, doing something like this. Putting smiles on people's faces.

One of the little boys peers up at him. "You're wearing armor."

"Um...yup."

"Are you from the circus?"

He freezes. The mom notices and shushes the boy. She scolds him a little, but Al can see the curiosity in her eyes, too. Luckily, they arrive at the house at that moment, so he's able to hand over the bags and make his escape.

It shouldn't bother him. He should be used to it by now, he tells himself. But…

Ed is a better brother than he ever deserved, and he'll never stop trying to get Al's body back so he can be normal again. But by even saying that-and this is what he will never tell Ed, ever-it drives home the fact that he's not normal. He's a freak.

Someday, he knows, it will change.

But, he just wants someone to show him that who he is _right now_ is okay too.


	4. Chapter 4

BAM!

The progression of one Edward Elric from the front door of Eastern Command to Colonel Mustang's office door was as regular as clockwork. In fact, the clerks in the outer officer were rumored to set their watches by it.

"Good morning, Fullmetal," Mustang greeted. "I see the assassins have failed."

The kid smirked. "Yeah, they were total wimps—wait a minute. You knew about them?"

Mustang idly brushed an invisible speck of dust off his desk top. "Of course. In addition to being, as you say, wimps, the rebel alchemists weren't especially intelligent. They reserved hotel rooms under assumed names, but the hotel clerk overheard them talking about their plans and reported them. Not that we really needed that, since the guards at the station recognized them. Still, it's always nice to have civilian support, wouldn't you say?"

Ed's mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. Finally he got out, "You knew the whole time. That those freaks were coming to kill me."

Mustang sent him a lazy smile. "I almost considered lending the poor things a hand. I might at last get a report that's filled out correctly."

"If. you. knew," the words were spat out between Ed's teeth, "then why didn't you tell me, you jerk!" He ended in a shout.

"Oh come now, Fullmetal. I have full confidence in your ability to handle such a little problem."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE HAS TO TAKE A BATH IN THE SINK?!"

Needless to say, Mustang's team got very little done that day.


End file.
